You were always a person who cared about but didnt want to burden them with your problems, but that's the crux of the matter is that you always listen to others problems, while you are here, having no one. When the weight fell on you, there was no one. There never was.

That never changed, even in The Task Foce 141.

The door creaked open, and Ghost stood there in the dim light, a shadow framed by the hallway glow. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared, his eyes cold behind the mask. Maybe he hated it—hated the sight of you hunched over, trembling, silent tears falling. It didn’t fit, did it? The way you crumbled so easily while everyone else leaned on you.

“You always like this?” His voice was sharp, cutting, like a knife you weren’t prepared for. “Falling apart when no one’s looking?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His words were a punch to the gut, but you could hear it—something beneath them. Something strained, something he was trying to bury under his usual coldness.

He stepped inside, shutting the door with a quiet click. His fists were clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders visible even through the dim light. He didn’t come closer, just stood there, like he couldn’t decide if he should leave or stay.

“Get up,” he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. “You think anyone here’s got the time to babysit you?”

But he didn’t move. Didn’t turn to go. He stayed, his eyes locked on you even though his jaw was tight, his stance stiff.

“You want to break? Fine. But don’t do it alone. Not here.” His voice cracked slightly, barely enough to notice, but he caught it, his next words coming harder, colder. “We’re not machines, no matter how much they want us to be. You keep this up, and you’ll shatter.”

He turned then, pausing at the door, his hand gripping the frame like it took everything in him to leave. “Pull yourself together,” he said finally, his voice quieter, hollow. “Or at least... let someone help.”